


Discordant

by Aki_Aiko



Category: Glee
Genre: Other, Parent/Child Incest, Self-Harm, Suicide, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_Aiko/pseuds/Aki_Aiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eat healthy.  Look perfect.  Scrub clean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

warnings: non-con, self-harm, suicide, incest (parental abuse).  PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.  I cannot stress this enough.  
  
Chapter One-  
  
Kurt wakes up in the morning aching all over.  Bruises run along his skin, covering his thighs, and a bite mark on his shoulder.  One of his wrists is sore and raw from being tied to the headboard.  He can hear Finn in the bathroom which connects their rooms, so he sits and waits, staring at the carpet while the events of last night play over and over in his head.  He doesn't know how it happened.  How something like this could have happened.  
  
When Finn returns to his own room, Kurt stands and winces at the sting to his backside, then shuffles to the bathroom door, which he opens slowly, painfully.  The mirror shows a boy, just a few years shy of being a man, with wide, staring eyes.  He'd kept them closed the whole time, his face pressed into the pillow beneath him in the hopes of suffocating himself out of the situation.    
  
The shower is scalding hot at first, but Finn's managed to use up the hot water because it soon turns tepid, then morphs into ice cold.  Kurt doesn't care.  He stays huddled under the water for almost an hour, until Finn bangs on the door and asks when he's coming out.  
  
He yells back, not even sure what words he's used to answer, but it makes Finn go away.  His body shivers violently when he steps out of the shower, but he barely even notices the goosebumps that raise up along his skin as he makes his way back to his own room.    
  
Dressing is a chore today.  He digs out one of his long-sleeved shirts from the closet and pulls it stiffly over his head, muscles protesting as he moves his arms through the armholes.  The fabric is thick and will keep him warm and covered, and the sleeves end at his fingertips.  No one will notice how damaged his wrist is, how damaged he is.  
  
He lets Finn drive them to school today.  They'd most likely get into an accident if he does it, the way last night keeps playing over and over in his head.  The way puffs of hot breath hit the back of his neck, how large, rough hands gripped him tightly, and the noises.  Grunting, panting, animalistic sounds.  
  
"You okay, dude?" Finn asks, glancing away from the road to look at his stepbrother.  "You look like kind of pale."  
  
"I was raped last night," Kurt says.  
  
"You really should set your alarm.  Did you, like, totally skip that skin care thing you do at night?"  
  
Kurt doesn't answer, just huddles against the door and stares out the window, oblivious to the looks Finn keeps giving him.  It's almost a relief to stumble out of the car and onto the concrete of McKinley High's parking lot.  Last night had been dark, but now the sun shines on Kurt's face as he stares up at the early morning rays.  They burn his eyes and leave a ringed aftereffect of red when he finally looks away.  
  
Mercedes finds him at his locker as he's staring at the cool metal door in front of him.  All he can see on the reflected surface are two bodies moving together, one much smaller than the other, so fragile underneath.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asks at the blanked-out expression on his face.  
  
Kurt leans into her, a hand latching onto her sleeve, and gasps out, "I can still _feel_ him all over me."  
  
"I'm sorry, boo.  Do you want some aspirin?"  She digs around in her purse and pulls out a small bottle of pills.  
  
He takes two from her outstretched palm, fingers brushing lightly over her dark skin, and downs them quickly.  They stick in his throat without any water to help, but it's a momentary discomfort.  The medicine eases the aches and pains, dulling them down, though it never really goes away.  
  
In math class, Kurt draws a line on his paper, a slight curve from the top left corner down to the bottom right.  It's a slow, sinuous slide, like the hands on his back as they run up and down his body before settling on his hips, his thighs, the padding of his backside.  
  
He stops at the corner of the page and stares at it blankly, unaware of how Artie, just a few seats away, look at him with eyebrows drawn.  The math test he didn't take gets a zero and Mrs. Clarke tells him to stay after class.  He zones out while she talks, listening to how his body pulses and thrums.  Artie passes slowly by on his way out the door, stopping once to glance at Kurt's still frame.  
  
Lunch is pizza today but Kurt doesn't eat.  Instead, he curls up under one of the stairwells with his knees drawn up and his messenger bag tucked into the space between his arms and legs.  It plays over and over in his mind what happened, like a bad dream that won't go away, no matter how hard he rocks back and forth under the stairs in a manic attempt to shake the memory loose from where it's latched onto his brain.  
  
Afterwards, Kurt slips into a seat in the back of his French class and puts lays his head on the desktop in front of him. ignoring snickers which quickly cut off.  
  
"Kurt?"  Mr. Schue carefully approaches and puts a hand on Kurt's shoulder, causing him to jerk at the touch.  His textbook and spiral notebook crash to the floor.  The sound is loud, too loud, in the silence of the classroom.  
  
"Finn," Mr. Schue calls to the front of the room.  "Why don't you take Kurt to the nurse?"  
  
"Should we call his dad?" Finn asks.  
  
Kurt twitches.  "He's the one who did this, Mr. Schue."  
  
Schuester frowns at him.  "Are you sure?  You don't look so good."  
  
Kurt lets Finn gather his things and leans on him as they leave the room for the nurse's office, where Kurt curls up on the little bed in the corner.  
  
The nurse takes his temperature, but Kurt's cold.  Clammy.  She lets him stay there, anyway.  
  
He clasps his hands together in front of him and a film of sweat stick them together.  They'd been coated with lotion right before hands clamped over his mouth, another over his eyes, and yanked him from his chair only to throw him face-down on the bed.  He'd felt it on his leg and then in him, and-oh!-how it hurt.  
  
Kurt curls into himself with a whimper, though it makes the pain stronger.  
  
"Kurt?"  Ms. Pillsbury's shoes tap quietly on the floor as she enters the room.  "Are you okay?  I heard you weren't feeling well."  
  
Kurt pulls further into himself.  
  
Behind him, Ms. Pillsbury gasps.  "Oh my.  Kurt...what happened to your neck?"  
  
Small hands poke at the sudden gap  between his scarf and shirt collar where a strip of skin now shows.  
  
Kurt bolts up and reties the scarf so that it once again covers the bruised wound on his neck.  Ms. Pillsbury opens her mouth to speak, but Finn bursts into the room.  Kurt mumbles something about Glee Club and hurries from the room, Finn following behind like a dumb pack animal, both his and Kurt's things piled high in his arms.  
  
Kurt sits between Mercedes and Lauren, who give each other a look over his head.  The girls' perfumes mingle together to form an overpowering smell.  His dad always smelled like Pennzoil, even whe...motor oil and the smell of sex suddenly clogs his nose and mouth.  The taste of it on his tongue makes him gag and his stomach clenches painfully.  
  
Sam is the first to realize what's happening and rushes for the nearest wastebasket.  Kurt heaves into it but only acidic bile comes up, burning his throat and making his eyes water.  The tears, now that they've come, won't stop falling.  
  
Mercedes rubs hi back.  He wants to throw her arms off, to tell her to stop touching him, but all he can do is shake helplessly in his seat.  The people around him fuss and worry, their voices all around him, until Mr. Schue holds up a hand to stop them.    
  
"I think you should go home, Kurt."  
  
"I don't want to," Kurt whispers back, head still bowed.  
  
Mr. Schue draws back.  "What?  Why?  Did something happen?"  
  
They stare at each other, Kurt suddenly speechless.  
  
Finn takes him home.  Mercedes follows them out into the parking lot and crawls into the backseat where Kurt sits propped up against the window again.  At home, she buries Kurt under a blanket while Finn makes a sandwich.  It sits there, untouched, while Kurt huddles under the blanket, his feet buried in a crack between the couch cushions.  
  
Mercedes hand is at his back, rubbing small circles.  Kurt shudders at her touch, at how her fingertips press between his shoulder blades.  
  
"Dear god, Mercedes, stop touching me," he finally snaps.  
  
She gets him another blanket.  
  
Kurt pulls both of them over his head and wraps himself up in a cocoon of heavy, quilted material.  When he emerges, maybe it'll be as someone new, someone with bright, shiny memories of things that didn't happen but could have, if he pretends hard enough.  
  
He can't feel Mercedes's hand anymore.  
  
Sometime later, Kurt doesn't know when,  the door rattles.  He presses back into the couch at the sound of his dad's voice.  He and Carole are talking in low whispers.  Kurt strains to listen but hears only faint murmuring.  He thinks they might be talking about him, but the world keeps going out of focus in a last-ditch effort to shield him from reality.  
  
After a moment of blissful stillness, a hand breeches the cocoon he's built-a strong hand that once held teacups and finger sandwiches on a hot, sunny day, all to make a strange boy happy.  
  
Burt peers in at him.  His mouth moves but the world has gone away again, and all Kurt registers is that his dad's mouth is moving.  He jerks back from the hand that reaches for him, which makes everything come painfully back into focus.  Burt pulls him from the nest of blankets and sets Kurt on his feet.  He freezes when a heavy arm drapes itself across his shoulders.  
  
Kurt stares at the room Burt leaves him in.  It looks just like he left it this morning.  A crumpled ball cap still lies between the bed and vanity table, the chair of which sits askew from its normal place.  The covers on his bed are rumpled, but when Kurt goes to straighten it, a wave of revulsion overcomes him and he's forced to step away.  
  
He feels dirty, unclean, and needs to scrub himself clean. A shower won't help him now, he knows that, but he can't help wanting to try.  Maybe it's a new compulsion, one to add to the list of things he has to do.  
  
Eat healthy, look perfect, scrub clean.  
  
Shedding him clothes as he walks, Kurt steps into the bathroom and locks the door.  He stands under the hot, stinging spray of water and scrubs at himself with a special loofa he'd bought ages ago.  His skin turns red from where he frantically runs it over his chest and arms, his back and legs.  He even slips it briefly between his legs but still can't get rid of the feel of disgust that rolls over him, so he throws it down and begins to claw at himself, desperate sobs rising in his throat.  
  
Finn's knock on the door startle him enough that the nails of his first two fingers slice into the thin skin of his inner arm.  
  
"Go away!" Kurt shouts at the door.  By the time he looks back down, the small beads of blood that had started to form have already washed away,  leaving him disappointed to have missed it.  
  
But there are other ways...  
  
Heart thudding at the sudden realization of what he's compelled to do, he steps out of the shower, leaving the water running, and rifles through the drawers.  Both he and Finn have electric razors, but a pack of disposables are shoved to the back of the cabinet under the sink.  
  
The first cut is midway up his arm, and he stares, fascinated, at the thin line of blood that drips from his arm to the bottom of the tub.  A small pool of red lingers like a whirlpool before draining away, taking all relief with it.  
  
He has the blade poised for another cut when a fist hammers at the door, causing his hand to jerk.  
  
Pain hits like a hammer, and he clamps a hand over the new cut in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding.  Stumbling from the bath in a panic, Kurt stumbles, catching his foot on the edge of the tub.  He falls forward and hits the doors, then slides down it.  
  
Finn is shouting is name.  Kurt wants to answer, he really does, but he's tired and in pain and it just seems like so much work to call for help.  Beneath him, the door buckles.  There's distance yelling, hurried footsteps, and the bathroom door leading to Finn's room is flung open.  
  
Finn is a dim figure in Kurt's graying vision.    
  
"It's okay," Kurt tries to tell him but can only mouth the words as something presses against his wrist.  Maybe a towel.  
  
He wishes he could say he's sorry, that it was an accident, but he settles instead on, "Love you," before the last bit of consciousness leaves him.


	2. Chapter 2

warnings: non-con, self-harm, suicide, incest (parent/child), language

Chapter Two-

Finn's always been a heavy sleeper. On the day Kurt tries to kill himself, he wakes up clueless to what occurred in the room next to his that night. Kurt's still in bed when Finn steps into the shower, but he doesn't think much about it as he gets ready for school. Today's probably one of Kurt's special mask days where he sits around in his room before with green goo all over his face, though he's usually in and out of the bath by now.

Their shared shower doesn't start up until Finn heads downstairs for breakfast. Worry starts to wriggle at his brain when he realizes the water's still running forty minutes later, long enough to have gone cold. He hurries back upstairs and bangs on the bathroom door from his own room.

"We're going to be late," he yells.

There's a pause, then Kurt yells back, "I'll be out in a minute."

Kurt doesn't make it downstairs for twenty more minutes. He heads to the front door, hands clenched white at around the handle of his messenger bag and chucks the car keys at Finn as he passes by.

"Hey, thanks, man." Finn smiles. Awesome. He never gets to drive Kurt's car.

Once inside, with the doors shut and engine running, he glances at Kurt and really looks at him for the first time. What he sees surprises him.

Kurt sits curled in the passenger seat like a child, his hair still damp from the shower and his clothes rumpled, like he simply pulled them out of a hamper and tossed them on. Dark circles ring his eyes, which are fixed blankly on the dashboard.

"Dude, you okay? You look kind of pale." Like a zombie, really.

Kurt's head jerks in Finn's direction. "I overslept," he said.

Finn eyes him doubtfully but can't see any reason Kurt would lie to him. "You should have set your alarm. Did you, like, totally skip that skin care thing you always do at night?"

Kurt just turns away, curling further into himself and resting his head against the window. The drive to school is quiet. Finn thinks about turning on the radio but is afraid the noise might be too much noise for Kurt right now. He should have stayed in bed if he feels that bad.

They go their separate ways once inside the school building. Finn watches Kurt go and has to fight the urge to follow after, to mother hen the smaller boy. Kurt'll run into Mercedes soon enough. She'd do all those things Finn's own mother liked to do for him.

Maybe when she and Burt get home from their late honeymoon, she'll do all those things for Kurt, too.

x

"What's up with Kurt?" Artie asks when Finn sits his tray on the lunch table with the rest of the Gleeks'. 

"Yeah," Tina adds. "Callie Ryan from my science class says he was mumbling to himself in the hall." She pauses, looking nervous. "He didn't finally snap, did he?"

"He overslept," Finn says sharply.

Mercedes gives him a look. "He told me he had a headache."

Across from Mercedes, Santana rolls her eyes. "Please. He looks like he just got fucked. And not in the good way."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying? 'Cause no way my boy was-"

Finn throws a hand up. "Enough! Kurt just overslept, Santana. There's nothing wrong with him."

"Whatever." Santana tosses her fork down and leaves them for a group of cheerleaders on the other side of the room.

"Where is he, anyway?" Artie asks.

They don't see Kurt all lunch period or even in the hall after. Finn doesn't see him again until he wanders into Mr. Schue's Spanish class. He doesn't even take Spanish. Mike and Puck stop throwing spitballs Schuester's back and watch, concerned, as Kurt floats by them without a word. He sits, drops his head onto the desktop, and lets his arms dangle limply down.

Some of the kids laugh when they see him, but Puck flexes his arms and they fall cowed silence. Mr. Schue gets that super-concerned look he gets on his face whenever one of his kids get, say, drunk or pregnant, and goes to kneel in front of Kurt's desk. Kurt jerks under Mr. Schue's hand, his books getting knocked to the floor by his twitching arms.

Finn takes him to the nurses off, which he probably should have done earlier. Kurt curls up on the little cot and immediately turns to face the wall. Finn hovers by the door. He can't help but feel he should be doing something, maybe go beat someone up, but doesn't know why. Kurt just overslept.

When he comes back at the end of the day, Ms. Pillsbury is there watching Kurt wrap the scarf tighter around his neck. As soon as he catches sight of Finn, he mutters something about Glee and rushes from the room. They should go home, but Kurt's already passing through the choir room doors when Finn catches up to him.

It doesn't go well. Before class can even properly start, Kurt's throwing up and crying. Finally, they go home.

x

Carole makes a quick pot of chicken noodle soup while Burt sends Kurt up to bed. She hands Finn a covered bowl. "Take this to your brother."

Finn inhales the wonderful smelling fumes and gulps. "Is this dinner?"

Carole shrugs. "Sure. Just don't eat that before it gets to Kurt."

Finn hears the shower going when he gets upstairs. Still holding the soup on its tray, Finn goes to tell Kurt that dinner's ready but can hear that, under the steady drumming of the water, Kurt is crying, long, jagged sounds that are painful to hear.

Santana's words from earlier whirling around his head, Finn knocks on the door. "Hey. You done yet?"

He really wants to see Kurt for himself now, make sure someone didn't do...something...to him.

Kurt's answer of "I'm in the shower," doesn't make much sense. Of course he's in the shower. Finn takes a look at Kurt's room, looking for a place to set the bowl in his hands. The little table by the bed looks good, so Finn heads towards it. Walking around the bed, he steps on a hat lying on the floor. After he sets the tray down, he leans down to pick it up.

It's a ball cap like the kind Burt wears, crinkled and brown, with the words 'Tom's Trucking Service' printed in small letters on the brim. Finn grimaces, wipes the feel of grease off his hands, and starts to stand. He's halfway there, his face level to Kurt's bed, when he sees it.

A streak of red marrs the bright white of Kurt's sheets. The stain is small, barely noticeable-except Finn's crouched right there, staring at it.

With a building sense of dread, Finn reaches out a hand and grips the top blanket, already half-opened, and yanks it down to reveal tell-tale signs of blood and semen. He jerks away, stunned, and falls backward. After a few moments of frozen staring, Finn jumps up and hurries to the bathroom door, which he knocks on so hard his hand will be bruised for days afterward.

He's running to get Burt when something hits the closed door with a heavy thunk, hard enough to be a body.

Horrible images of Kurt with a broken neck, a bloody nose, or even a simple twisted ankle, makes Finn run back to the door. He rams a shoulder against the wood, but it merely shudders under his weight, immovable.

Finn calls Kurt's name but gets nothing but the sound of subtle movement behind the door. It feels like forever to race down the hall but finally, once in his own room, Finn rams the bathroom door on his side. Unlocked, it flies open on impact and bounces against the opposite wall, smacking Finn on the rebound.

Kurt lays propped against the other door, covered in blood. Though he’s gripping one of his wrist with one red hand, Finn can tell that it’s not enough, because blood still flows out of the wound in a steady stream, adding to what’s already spilled out.

“Oh-oh, god, Kurt,” he mutters as he yanks some towels out of the closet. A few of them drop to the floor as Finn rushes to Kurt’s side but Finn doesn’t pay them any mind. He doesn’t even notice, really. 

Kurt’s eyes are unfocused and his breathing erratic. Finn’s not even sure Kurt sees him as he wraps on of the towels around the injured wrist, but his lips move silently to form the words, “Love you.”

His eyes flutter closed.

There’s no phone nearby-Finn left his downstairs and Kurt’s is probably still in his bag, so he’s forced to yell for their parents as loud as can. It seems to take an hour, though in reality is just a few minutes, for Burt and Carole to make it up the stairs. 

Carole gasps at the scene in front of her, but Burt falls to the floor and calls Kurt’s name in a broken voice. The next few minutes pass in a blur. Carole is the one who calls an ambulance while Finn holds the towels pressed against Kurt’s wrist and Burt pleads for his son to hang on.

After the paramedics leave with Kurt on a stretcher, Finn is left standing in the bathroom, covered in someone else’s blood. He holds his hands up and stares at how it’s sunk into the lines of his palms and gotten under his fingernails.

“Mom?” 

Carole wraps him up in her arms as best she can, unmindful of how her clothes get stained when he presses against her to cry.

She pulls away and runs a hand through his hair. “Finn. Finn, we have to go.”

Finn wipes at his eyes with the unbloodied part of his arm. “Go where?”

“The hospital, honey. Burt needs us. And Kurt. We have to be there for Kurt.”

Finn hurries to wash his shaking hands while Carole gets the car started. They call no one, not yet. Mercedes will freak when she finds out what’s happened, and Rachel will probably put together some sort of musical medley for the occasion. Kurt doesn’t need that right now, Carole explains when Finn asks to call his friends with the news.

When they find out if Kurt will live, then he can call them. Only then.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three-  
  
Finn grabs Kurt's phone before he and Carole leave the house.  As they sit in the waiting room, he cycles through the phone numbers of Blaine, Rachel, and Mercedes, wanting to call them but can't until his mom gives him the okay.  
  
Burt sat at Finn's left, slumped over in his seat with a hand over his eyes and Carole rubbing his back with one hand.  Kurt had died once in the ambulance, his heart stopped, but the paramedics managed to bring him back.  It's frightening to think that, for only a minute or two, he had been completely gone from the world.  No Kurt Hummel, just a body which held his name.  
  
No wonder Burt looks like hell, Finn thinks.  The idea of his brother dying is horrible enough.  If it had been his mother in that ambulance...  
  
A doctor finally comes out and Burt stands as he approaches, wringing his hat between his hands.  Finn stares at it, frowning.  He's distracted from his barely formed thoughts by the doctor's somber voice.  Most of what he says is too complicated for Finn to follow but he gets enough to understand that Kurt's still in danger.  There'd been so much blood loss that they'll have to wait, to make sure the transfusions will pull him through.  
  
The doctor pauses, then hesitates, glancing at Finn.  "There's something else you should be aware of.  If we could talk in private..."  
  
Carole digs a few dollars out of her pocket and hands them to Finn.  "Why don't you go get a coke from one of the vending machines?"  
  
"What's going on?" Finn asks.  He's Kurt's brother now, so he should get to know what's going on, too, but Carole's voice is firm as she sends him away.    
  
Finn glances back once, in time to see Burt collapse into one of the plastic chairs and run a hand over his face.  By the time he gets back, soda in hand, the two of them have recovered as much as they can, though Carole dabs at her eyes with tissues from her purse.  
  
"Can we see him?" Burt asks the doctor.    
  
"Only for a minute or two.  He'll be out for a while, so if you want to wait until later-"  
  
"No.  I want to see my son."  Burt pushes himself up and past the doctor, but stops when he realizes that he doesn't know where Kurt's room is.  
  
Finn and Carole stay behind as Burt's led away and watch as he disappears down the hallway.  
  
x  
  
Carole shakes Finn awake in the wee hours of the morning, just as light starts to filter in from the large glass windows lining the waiting room wall.  
  
"We can go see him now," she whispers as if not to wake the few people around them.  
  
Burt is sitting by Kurt's bed, holding his hand.  Finn's eyes are drawn to the pale, drawn boy lying in the hospital bed.  Kurt looks small and helpless, like a child, amidst all the wires and tubes stuck into his body.  His left wrist is wrapped in bandages and another peeks through the collar of his gown.  Dark, fingerlike bruises curl around from the back of his neck; another one circles around his right wrist.  As Finn watches, Kurt's eyes open slowly, stopping hallway as if too heavy to keep open.  
  
"Hey," Finn says.  
  
Kurt just looks at him.  Finn isn't sure if he can actually see them or, if he can, that he knows who they are.  
  
"Kurt?"  Burt leans forward, and Kurt's eyes float towards him.  A strange sound, something like a moan, falls from his mouth when Burt tries to gently hug him.  Kurt flails weakly at the touch, knocking Burt's hat .  It tumbles to the floor.  
  
"Burt," Carole warns him away.  When she reaches a hand across the bed towards her husband, Kurt latches onto her sleeve with his good hand.  For the first time that any of them remember, it is Carole he clings to, pulling her closer so that he can bury his face into the crook of her shoulder.  His eyes drop closed even as he wraps an arm around her.  Once his breathing evens out into an even sleeping pattern, Carole cradles the back of his head and gently lowers him to the pillows.  
  
As their parents talk together in low voices, Finn starts making horrifying connections.  Burt's hat still lies on the floor, forgotten.  Burt would do anything for his son.  He wouldn't do...that, would he?  
  
"Can I borrow the car?" Finn asks through numbed lips.  He can't look Burt in the eyes, so keeps his head turned away.  
  
"Sure, honey," Carole says.  Any other day, the answer would be no, but his previous track record seems forgotten in the face of Kurt's 'accident'.  
  
Finn takes a last look at him before hurrying for the door.  The sooner he gets this over with, the better.  He's probably wrong, anyway.  Someone else did this.  Burt couldn't have.  
  
"Dude," a familiar voice calls out.  "What the hell happened?"  
  
Finn looks up to see all of New Directions in the lobby.   Rachel breaks away from the others to rush forward and wrap her arms around him.  
  
"I was so worried you were hurt," she murmurs against his chest.  
  
"Is is Kurt's dad?" Tina asks.  
  
Quinn steps up beside him and glares at Rachel.  "Would you mind not hugging my boyfriend?"  
  
Rachel backs off to look up at Finn sheepishly.  "What happened?"  
  
"How'd you guys even know we were here?" Finn asks.  
  
"I heard on the police band," Puck answers.  "A freakin' ambulance went to your house."  
  
"Yeah.  For Kurt."  Finn shakes his head and pulls himself away from Quinn's arm.  "I've got to ho home.  Sorry."  
  
Mercedes wags a finger at him.  "Oh, no, you don't.  Hey!"  
  
Finn ignores her and walks out the front doors.  It's only when he stops at the car that he notices Santana has followed after him.  Her hands are stuffed into the pockets of her Cheerios jacket and her shoulder hunch inwards as she stares at him over the roof of the car.  
  
"How'd you know?" he asks.  
  
Santana's expression falters and she hesitates.  "You remember when me and Britt spent a week out of school last year?"  
  
"You were out of school last year?"  
  
"God," Santana scoffs.  "You are so stupid."  
  
"That's not fair!"  
  
"Whatever.  Anyway.  She called me one night, wanting me to pick her up.  There were these guys..."  
  
"You-"  
  
"Not me."  Santana swings open the car door and lowers herself into the front seat.  Finn slides into the driver's side.  
  
"Who did it?"   His hands tighten on the steering wheel.  
  
"Oh, don't worry.  Kurt's not the only boy at school who can hit the high notes."  
  
"What does that have to do with Brittany?"  
  
"Just drive."  
  
He starts the car, and they drive to his house in silence.  
  
Santana breaks it to add, "If you tell anyone about Brittany, I will rip out your intestines and let you wear them like a big, overgrown Christmas tree, got it?"  She settles back into her seat and is quiet the rest of the way.  
  
Kurt's room is the same as Finn left it-bed mussed, chair overturned, and a lamp broken on the floor.  Santana goes to the window, where the curtains blow with each gust of wind blowing in.  She quickly shuts it and frowns at the mud that gets on her hands from the sill.  
  
Neither of them notice the footsteps that have been tracked inside and back out.  
  
Finn stares intently at the hat lying on the floor.  He doesn't really want to look at the bed again but forces his eyes up, immediately drawn to that streak of red he'd noticed earlier.  In one vicious move, he snatches the hat up and backs away.  
  
"No way."  Santana's eyes widen and she utters what Finn assumes is a Spanish curse word.  "You sure?"  
  
Finn nods.  He wants to say no, but he can't.  
  
x  
  
The hat is crumpled in one of his hands as he storms back into the hospital.  Santana immediately goes to Brittany, who brightens at her approach.  Finn barely spares them a glance as he passes.  Mercedes looks ready to kill him, though, and sooner or later he'll have to deal with the fallout of keeping her out of the loop.  
  
Burt and Carole are still sitting at Kurt's bedside when Finn barges in.  Kurt's asleep again, like he's been for most of his stay, and his closed eyes are a thin strip of bruised blue.  Finn goes right up to Burt and shoves the hat at his chest.  Burt turns it in his hands, staring down at it silently.  
  
"How could you do that?" Finn yells, ignoring Carole's plea for quiet.  
  
Burt looks up at him, eyebrows drawn down in anger, and for a minute Finn is afraid instead of angry.  "You think I'd do this?"  His gaze drops back to the hat.  "To Kurt?"  
  
"What'd you do?  Sneak back into town while mom was asleep-"  A sudden thought makes Finn's stomach turn.  "You were with my _mom_."  
  
"Finn," Carole warns.  
  
Kurt lets out a small whimper and a frightened expression crosses his face, so Finn lowers his voice.  
  
"Why won't you answer me, Burt?"  
  
"This ain't my hat."  Burt thrusts back at Finn, grabs the car keys out of his hands, and shoves past him to the door, leaving Finn to gape at his back.  
  
"Wha-"  
  
Blaine appears at the door, only to be shouldered out of the way by Burt.  
  
"What's going on?" he asks Finn.  "I heard Kurt-"  He's knocked a few more inches off-kilter as Finn pushes past him.   
  
"If that's not your hat, then whose is it, huh?"  Finn shouts once they're out of Kurt's earshot.  
  
The other kids look over as Finn's voice fills the waiting room, but Burt keeps walking, head down and a fist clenched around the keys in his hand.  Finn follows him out to the parking lot but hesitates at the car.  He's forced to dive for the door as Burt slams on the gas pedal.  
  
"What's going on?" Finn asks, bracing himself with a hand on the dashboard.  
  
"I know who did," Burt says.  "And I'm going to kill the bastard."  
  
x  
  
Burt stops at the house, ignoring all of Finn's questions, and retrieves a shotgun from his and Carole's bedroom closet.  By the time they're an hour out of Lima, Finn's given up on getting answers.  He doesn't even know where they're going, just that they are getting there fast.  
  
Wherever they are, Burt knows where they're going.  He barely slows down while driving down the narrow, tree-lined street.  He does, however, stop for traffic lights and stop signs. His rage has settled in an eerie calm that makes Finn nervous.  Finn wants to take the gun away but that's not happening, not with Burt's need for blood simmering so close to the surface.  
  
When they pull up to a garage, Finn gapes at the sign out front.  'TOM'S TRUCKING SERVICE', it reads in big block letters.  Cars and trucks in various states of repair litter of the building.  Finn can see a dozen from where they've parked beside the shop.  
  
He's so busy staring at the husk of an '89 Dodge Raider that he misses the first few seconds of Burt getting out of the car, gun in hand.  Finn scrambles after him and gets to the door just in time to hear Burt talking to an old guy behind the front desk.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
The old guy, whose nametag reads, 'Bill,' raises his hands as if being robbed.  "What the hell, Hummel?"  
  
Burt ignores him and heads for the back.  Finn gives Bill an apologetic look as he follows after.  The two of them go through a little door behind the desk and out into a workshop similar to the one Burt owns, except it's a lot dirtier, with oil stains, and rust, and tires piled halfhazardly along the walls.  All the safety warnings Burt drilled into Finn's head before he ever even visited the shop makes him hesitate at the door, but he can't leave Burt on his own, not when he's got a gun in one hand and murder on his mind.  
  
Somewhere in the shop, a machine roars to life.  Burt follows the sound like a bloodhound to where a man leans over an engine.  He's a big, brawny guy with a buzz cut and wearing flannel.  If the lights were dim and he had a baseball cap on...he'd look a lot like Burt.  
  
The guy looks up as Burt raises the gun.  
  
Gasping, Finn grabs Burt's arm, making the shot go awry.  The bullet pierces the hood of a nearby car instead of the guy in front of them.  As Finn and Burt struggle with the gun, he runs out the door.  Burt manages to shove Finn aside, no small feat considering the differences in their age, size, and heart condition.  A car starts up outside and they both rush out, only to jump out of the way when a rusted old pickup nearly runs them over as it speeds away.  
  
Burt fires the gun at it but misses.  An old woman across the street drops her bag of groceries and runs away screaming.    
  
Finn grabs a large rock by his foot and, in a throw Coach Beiste would be proud of, hurls it into the air.  It smashes through the trucks back window, causing the driver to swerve and slow down, only to speed up again.  He turns to Burt and says his name helplessly.  
  
"Get in the car," Burt snaps, rounding the corner to where their vehicle sits waiting for them.  
  
"But...the cops.  We have to call them."  All those accusations seem silly now.  Had he really thought Burt would hurt his own flesh and blood?  
  
"Get in the car, Finn."  
  
Finn watches Burt warily as they pull out of the driveway.  The silence between them is uncomfortable, but he doesn't even think of turning on the radio.  
  
He's probably earned this silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Carole waits with Kurt while Burt and Finn rush out the door. She doesn't know what just happened, why her son said those thins. Burt would never do this to Kurt. Never. She lets them go without a word, though. There's no way she's leaving Kurt now. What would he do if we woke up all alone?

"Is he okay?" Blaine asks, hovering at the door.

"No." Carole leaves her answer short and simple.

"Can I...?"

She looks away from Kurt's sleeping form and finally takes in Blaine's appearance. His eyes are fixed on Kurt, a pained grimace on his face, while his hands twitch nervously at his sides. He looks like he wants to leap onto the bed and hug Kurt tight. The only thing stopping him, she's sure, is the fact that Kurt looks like one touch could shatter him.

Carole sighs. "You can come in. Just be quiet. He's sleeping."

Blaine steps inside timidly and takes Kurt's hand, the bandaged one stuck with an IV. He scoots his fingers under the other boy's palm, lets their fingers loosely interwine.

Kurt suddenly gasp and his eyes flutter open. When he sees Blaine hovering over him, his eyes fill with tears.

"Hey." Blaine runs a free hand over Kurt's cheek, his forehead, and then traces the hollows of his eyes with a thumb.

Kurt stares at him. He pulls his hand away when he realizes who Blaine is, his eyes seeking out Carole. "Mom?" he whispers when she comes to his side.

Any other time, any other day, that word would have made her heart leap with joy. Now, she just wants to cry. 

"I'm right here," she whispers, stroking his arm.

Kurt relaxes under her touch, the narrowness in his softening until he looks less like an animal in a cage and more like the hurt boy that he is.

Blaine looks a little hurt but he's a smart kid. He knows Kurt's not well. The two of them have been so good for each other that Carole would hate to see this ruin what they've built together.

The next hour is filled with doctors, nurses, and a police officer asking questions. Kurt clings to Carole's arm the whole time, staring around at everyone wide-eyed. He doesn't say anything to the police officer, just turns away and curls up when the woman presses too hard.

Blaine's left the room, so Carole knows it's not him hearing about this that Kurt's worried about, and Burt doesn't show back up until things have settled down. Officer Turner's left behind a business card which now sits in Carole's purse, surrounded by makeup, coupons, and loose change.

Carole crosses the room and snaps, keeping her voice low, "Where have you been? Kurt needs you here."

Burt's face crumples. He quickly schools it back into a more neutral expression and gently moves her aside. Finn stands in the doorway, hands tucked into his pockets and head tilted down. He only looks his mother in the eye when she lifts his face up by putting a finger under his chin.

"Kurt." Burt falls to his knees and takes Kurt's hand in his. "Kurt," he repeats, voice cracking. "Buddy. You know I didn't do it, right? I would never-"

He breaks down then, his voice rough and choked as he cries. Tears run down Kurt's face, too, but he only stares at his father silently. There's no absolution in his eyes, no fear, just a strange blankness Carole doesn't like.

"It was a guy," Finn says. Carole jumps at the sound of his voice. "He works at some shop out of town. He...he kind of looks like Burt. If Kurt didn't see him real good-"

Kurt's eyes flicker over to Finn, but his face remains a frozen mask of nothing.

"Jesus, Kurt, it wasn't your dad!"

"Finn." Carole squeezes his arm. "Tell me what happened."

Finn tells her about Kurt's room and how he'd found that hat on the floor, then about the trip to the trucking service place. She wants to be angry at Finn for suspecting Burt, of all people, but, well, he's never been good at putting puzzles together.

"He tried to shoot him," Finn adds.

Good, Carole thinks. It was a shame he'd missed. 

The viciousness of her thoughts surprises her. If Burt had killed that guy, he'd be in jail right now and where would that leave Kurt? Despite everything, he still needs his father, now more than ever. 

"Mom," Kurt suddenly calls, reaching a hand out towards her.

Burt's head snaps up and Finn's mouth hangs open, but she ignores them and hurries to Kurt's side.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I don't feel so good." His mouth turns down into a childish pout.

"Are you in pain?" Carole asks, getting a nod in return.

She shows him how to call the nurse and they talk to each other while waiting, in a strange little bubble all their own. It's like Burt and Finn aren't even in the room. Like Kurt's forgotten them.

When the nurse has come and gone, and Kurt's dozing against his pillow once again, Carole pulls Burt into her arms, lets him cry on her shoulder. Kurt sleeps through it all, dead to the world, and they are forced to wait.

x

Glen Carter wasn't supposed to be around children, Burt learns at the trial. The knowledge that he was the one to walk Kurt right past the man's greedy, lecherous eyes tears him up inside. Mrs. Stovers had needed new parts for her car and Burt knew the owner well enough to know that he'd find what he needed there. He'd wanted Kurt with him. They'd had so little time together since Dalton. He should have let him stay home.

Carter gets twenty years in prison for his crime. He should have gotten the death penalty.

Burt tries not to look at Finn with resentment. He would have killed Carter if Finn hadn't been there with him, and Kurt would have lost a father as well as a mother.

But, still...that monster gets free meals, a roof over his head, and, hell, he'll probably get paroled in a few years for good behavior or something else equally stupid.

When Kurt finally gets out of the hospital, cleared by a psychiatrist, he retreats to his room and hides for the summer, turning away friends and family alike. Burt, Carole, and Finn make a team of hovering worrywart, each frightened That Day will repeat itself. 

By the time school comes back around, he starts making timid steps back into the world. Eventually, he's able to laugh again and be around other people without flinching or disappearing into the sanctuary of his bedroom.

Burt is forced to watch from the sidelines, his faulty heart aching. Whenever he comes near, Kurt's face freezes, the smile or smirk or even frown on his face melting away as his eyes flicker in fear. Burt knows that Kurt knows it wasn't him, that he can't help flashing back. He still shrinks from his father's touch, slips through Burt's fingers when he tries to hold him closer.

And it hurts to see how tightly he clings to Carole. The two of them were were always friendly but never close. Not like he and Burt used to be. Now she makes his meals, takes him shopping, signs his permission slips, and tells her all the things he used to tell Burt. At night, she kisses Burt softly, and says he'll come around.

Two days after graduation, the ink barely dry on his diploma, Kurt flees to New York. They rarely hear from him except the few times he comes home on occasional holidays, too few for Burt's taste. New York becomes the sanctuary his bedroom once provided, only now he doesn't have to send people away. He's left them all behind.

Kurt hits Broadway like he's always wanted to, but the specter of Glen Carter hangs over his head and fuels the darks song of the perfomances he gets hold of. This dark side of him gets rave reviews from both fans and critics. He's successful and happy, which is what Burt has always wanted for him.

"He's faking it," Rachel tells Finn during one of her many trips home.

There have been rumors about Kurt, that he's just a bit reckless, just a bit sad. Thankfully, she doesn't think he's doing drugs. Burt worries that he's clinging too much to strangers for comfort or maybe just to forget, to make everything better for a fleeting moment in someone else's arms.

His second suicide attempt isn't a surprise to those who really know him, who remember the small boy from Lima who drowned out the world with song. He comes back home and hides in his room again, while his face is flashed across television sceens, the papers, the internet, all because of a stupid mistake.

Eventually, though, Kurt will come out of his room and return to the stage he thrives on. This part of his life will become just a footnote in his life story, because Kurt Hummel is meant to be a legend.

But Glen Carter? He should have gotten the death penalty, because that night he as good as killed the son Burt knew.


End file.
